


The Lusty Aldmeri Mage

by imdex, VeannaBlue



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Double Penetration, F/M, Foursome, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Group Sex, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Size Difference, Size Kink, Thalmor, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-04-08 08:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14101770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdex/pseuds/imdex, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeannaBlue/pseuds/VeannaBlue
Summary: If Aicantar had to describe his life in one word, that word would be dull. But even the most mundane have a secret. For Aicantar, his secrets were hidden beneath his bed in the form of shameful romance novels. At night he would lose himself to the pages and imagine what it would be like to fall into the fantasies that played across the parchment. Two Bretons and a Thalmor Justiciar are about to make those dreams a reality.





	1. Weaknesses

Though they put on an overbearing air of confidence, every Altmer had a weakness. Some kept it locked away like a shameful secret, only bringing it about in the darkest night when alone or in a tightly secured room with hours to muse or act upon them. For a few their flaws were flaunted, owned and damn well put on a pedestal for the whole world to see.

For some, this weakness came in the sweet taste of moon sugar or pastries. For others the tart smoke of skooma or the spicy burn of alcohol. However, most Altmer shared the same weakness. The very thing the Aldmeri Dominion sought to overthrow, enslave and eliminate…but one race, in particular, had many Altmer males hooked and hungry.

Aicantar snuck a glance at Ysabeau and allowed his eyes to linger on the smiling Breton. His throat tightened as she lifted her hand to press it against the broad chest of the Commander, her smile coy, her eyes shimmering with adoration and lust. Her cheeks were dusted a light rose in reaction to Ondolemar's presence, and though she maintained eye contact with him, Aicantar easily saw how her body instinctively shrunk downward in submission to his authority.

Unconsciously, the younger mer lowered his shoulders and sighed gently through his nose as his attention returned to the lavender he was preparing. Even twenty feet away the Commander exuded power. So attuned to Ondolemar's existence, Aicantar could almost always feel the air move when the Thalmor drew near.

Beau's voice and laughter was suddenly lost to the busy water of the stream and the dwarven gears of the keep. Frowning, Aicantar dared to glance up once more and felt his throat restrict as Ysabeau sat alone, smiling at him, and the Commander. Where had the Commander-

"Still admiring from afar, little coward?"

Aicantar's yelp was not swallowed up by the noisy ambiance around him. Instead, it seemed to echo around the cavern, and the sprigs of lavender went flying into the air. The young mer spun around and found himself face to face with the Thalmor Commander, who scowled as he set about dusting the offending indigo bulbs off his person.

"I-I'm sorry, Commander! I…you, uh…" Aicantar's words died in his throat as Ondolemar ascended the last step and seemed to stare into his shaken soul. Though Aicantar stood at the same height as the Commander, he felt as small as a child under the intensity of the dangerous green eyes picking him apart.

"Control yourself, boy." Ondolemar's sneer tugged his upper lip up a bit higher, showing straight white teeth and the feral point of a canine. "Why do you behave like a stammering maiden?"

Aicantar wished at that moment for the ground to swallow him whole.

"W-Well, I, um…" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and as he ducked his eyes away to plant them on the stone ground, a little smirk replaced Ondolemar's sneer.

"I see."

Aicantar stammered and quickly looked back up at the Commander and wished further that the ground would give or that the keep had been hiding a dwarven dragon that was looking for an easy meal. Ondolemar's full lips twisted upward into a smart little smirk, and the younger mer swallowed hard and took the smallest step back as Ondolemar openly turned his attention back to Ysabeau.

"She is stunning, isn't she?"

Aicantar licked his lips and after a few lingering seconds caught up some microscopic amount of bravery and took his gaze off the Thalmor to return it to Beau who smiled and gave him a wave.

"Y-Yeah, she's…she is." Aicantar breathed gently, shifting uncomfortably on his feet and respectfully returning his attention to the ground as Ondolemar's stayed firmly on the Breton.

"Why do you not approach her if you're so attracted to her?"

Aicantar's response was immediate. The mer looked back at Ondolemar with wide golden eyes, and his mouth dropped open in shock. Though Ondolemar's smirk remained as he swiveled his head back to look at him, Aicantar saw the sharpness in his eyes and the tightness in his face. His heart hammered helplessly in his chest as he found his voice in a breathless rasp.

"She is yours, Commander! I'd dare not interfere lest I wish for death!"

That seemed to soothe the older mer who visibly relaxed though the sharpness in his eyes still lingered.

"A wise decision and ever so thoughtful of you, but I do not own the Breton."

"But... you two…you-"

"She warms my bed and provides delightful company in this otherwise detestable city. I am a Commander of the Aldmeri Dominion. You'd do well to remember my role here is to root out heretics and serve the Dominion loyally." Ondolemar's eyes flickered back over to Ysabeau, and he snorted gently as he looked her over. "Should my loyalty involve fucking the Dragonborn into a mute mess then so be it."

Aicantar blushed hotly in embarrassment, arousal, and anger. An embarrassment that he so often wished Ysabeau was warming his bed, arousal at the thought of Ysabeau taking the Commander as well as partaking in other sexual activity with him, and anger at himself for lusting at those thoughts and the arrogant Altmer for openly flaunting his power and his apparent uncaring attitude toward leading her on.

"In any event," Ondolemar returned his full attention to the mage and applied that well-trained sneer back onto his features. "You are an Altmer. Should you wish to bed a lowly being such as a Breton, then you are granted that desire by your blood."

Aicantar shuffled uncomfortably under Ondolemar's gaze and shyly glanced back over at Ysabeau who had her attention fixed on the hallway leading toward the entry of the keep. Gods she was so beautiful. In his heart that dull ache that often appeared when she did or when he thought of her hurt just a bit more. If only he were good enough for her… he'd treat her so well, give her all she needed, and he was so sure that after he…after he…

The young mage sighed and once more dropped his gaze to the floor, taking in the gold detailing of Ondolemar's boots and robe. He would never be able to pleasure Beau the way the Thalmor could and did. He had never kissed a woman before, and a portion of his "dirty secret" lay tucked beneath his bed in the form of books detailing romantic trysts and his journal entries. The rest lived in his fantasies that often picked the worst times to bloom in his mind when episodes of boredom would usher them in.

"I see how you look at her when you believe you're being sly. You burn for her. You long to possess her, to bend her to your will. It is natural for us Altmer to strive for domination. You sit back in the shadow like some pathetic, spineless coward and allow your fear to dictate you."

Aicantar flinched at the force of disappointment and distaste that seemed to slam into him from Ondolemar's voice alone. The tips of his ears flamed crimson, and outrage and humiliation kept his voice hostage.

As Ondolemar was about to continue to put the mage down, Ysabeau released a squeal of complete excitement and the two elves immediately turned their entire focus onto the Breton as she pressed off the stone pillar she’d been resting against to run across the room. The mer watched as a blur of black hair and a happy whirlwind of sound rushed in Beau’s direction before they collided. 

Aicantar inhaled sharply as the two Bretons clung to each other and was unable to witness the way Ondolemar’s eyes sharpened further and blackened considerably. Aicantar had a sweet spot for Ysabeau Charcel, it was no secret try as he had, but as she pulled back from the newcomer, his heart fluttered pathetically in his chest. 

Ysabeau smiled, said something to her dear friend, and pointed at them, and in the next second the very air in the room seemed to still. The black-headed Breton turned with a brilliant smile on her face that quickly melted into one of passive submission upon her realizing both he and the Commander were watching and though he swore Ondolemar had growled upon witnessing her meekness, Aicantar wouldn’t be sure as his little sound of pleasure rattled through his own throat. 

Imani Dexereaux. 

The two observed the Breton as she gave them a timid little wave and returned her full attention to Beau who had eagerly begun chatting away about her newest adventures as she led Imani toward the bridge so they could sit. Aicantar and Ondolemar silently followed them with their eyes, both of them taking in and appreciating the curves the two little humans possessed. 

Ondolemar snuck a sidelong glance at Aicantar and bristled. His teeth grit and his body grew hotter beneath the leathers and cotton he wore. His nostrils flared in outrage that Aicantar’s gaze lingered on not just Ysabeau but now her pretty little friend and against his thigh his cock pulsed, tingling with the gathering blood flow. The boy tried his luck too boldly. 

Brushing aside the unseemly pang of jealousy, Ondolemar applied a smug smirk. 

“What do you think of Imani, mage?” 

Aicantar tried to swallow past the lump in his throat and the hair on the back his neck stood on end. Had Ondolemar dropped the noose before he had already applied it to Aicantar’s neck and stood ready to kick the world out from beneath him as he had so desperately wanted before. Not wanting to but not having a choice he timidly turned to respond but found his words scattering beneath the poisonous look in the Commander’s eyes that did not touch the seemingly arrogant smirk on his mouth. 

“I...I think she’s lovely, Commander.” 

“Do you wish to claim her? Dominate her? Bend her to your every whim?” 

“I-I, well, i-if she wished it?” Aicantar sputtered his face flushing miserably beneath his cowl. 

“If she wished it.” Ondolemar stepped forward and seemed to steal away the very air that had been evading Aicantar since his sudden appearance. “Should you get her on the end of your cock you’ll see that you are her better in every way, boy.” Ondolemar spat. 

Aicantar was paralyzed beneath Ondolemar’s power and his fear and shame. He blushed further at the image Ondolemar had put into his mind. How wild, untamed waves of ebony had replaced Ysabeau's long blonde hair. How her indigo eyes had closed only open back up as a facade of a sunlit forest. Suddenly his lips were no longer kissing patterns across creamy, flawless pale flesh but instead were staking claim to sun-kissed tan skin. 

“You are truly a disgrace to our race,” Ondolemar added snidely, sniffing and backing away. “Remember what I’m about to do for you, boy. Remember this lesson well.” 

Aicantar could only stare helplessly and fearfully as Ondolemar stalked away, around the corner, up the stairs, and onto the bridge. The young mer observed with wide eyes as Ysabeau happily got to her feet as Ondolemar gave a wave of his hand for her to do so. Once close enough he pulled the Breton close, bent, and said something that had her happy smile dropping off her face to make room for shock. 

Ysabeau looked over to Aicantar, and behind a few errant wisps of her hair, Ondolemar glared darkly at him before rising back up to look at her. Then Beau was smiling a thoughtfully mischievous little smile and quickly escaped Ondolemar’s grip to return to Imani, whispering into her hair, not once taking her eyes off Aicantar. The mage missed Imani’s look of shock, the mild panic, the way Beau had giggled and held her hand and had started to talk to her. 

Ondolemar hadn’t taken his eyes off him and though the ambiance rose up to join in the rush of his heartbeat in his ears the Commander’s voice spoke louder than all of his environment. 

_“Remember what I’m about to do for you, boy. Remember this lesson well.”_


	2. Persuasion

In the immediate moments following Beau's excited whispers, three things happened to Imani. Her stomach twisted in fear, her adrenaline spiked and a fog of disbelief erupted in her mind. The trio of reactions battled for precedence, all while something else entirely, something dark, unfurled deep within her. 

She struggled to form the words to express her agitation. What Beau was suggesting was scandalous and more than a little dangerous. The Dragonborn may enjoy flirting with danger but this, this was asking too much of her. Friendship surely only went so far, and to ask, to mention, to actually say what she said out loud. She gaped at Beau with an incredulous expression. 

"You can't be serious." 

"My dear Imani, I have never been more so. Don't give me that look," she giggled. "I know you find the Commander attractive. How many nights have we spent together swooning over him? Aren't you curious as to what it would be like?"

Imani dared a quick, nervous glance to the Altmer standing above them, then to the younger Mer, her eyes darting back to Beau's face, the fear of being caught flushing her cheeks.

"What? No! I mean, of course...but...that's not the point. What about the mage? I don't know him, and I can't do what you are proposing with someone I don't know."

"Well, if that is your only reservation that is easily rectified, I'll introduce you. You will love Aicantar, he is so very sweet and adorable." She squeezed Imani's hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, this is going to be such fun, I promise. Being with an Altmer is unlike anything you have ever experienced." She pulled Imani to her feet, ignoring her half-hearted resistance and stood beaming in front of the Commander.

Outwardly, Ondolemar had appeared to be completely ignoring the Bretons hushed conversations but his keen hearing listened intently, hanging on every word with piqued amusement. When he sensed the pair moving to stand he tore his glare away from Aicantar and tapped into the charm that he knew worked so effectively on the fickle creatures. 

"It is a pleasure to see you Imani, as always." He smiled pleasantly but his veil of geniality did little to hide the darkness of his eyes. The Breton shivered.

"Will you be joining us?" He purred. 

She struggled to word a reply, to say no, to decline but her traitorous imagination was being swept up in the Blonde's enthusiasm and unwanted, lustful images of entangled bodies and sweat sheened golden skin bloomed behind her eyes. She saw herself being worshipped, writhing under elegant hands, bruised by passionate mouths...her reply was little more than a breathy whisper. "Yes."

Ysabeau bounced in excitement at her assent and threw her arms around her, pulling Imani into a tight hug. "This is going to be magnificent." 

Ondolemar turned back to Aicantar with a triumphant smirk before saying to Ysabeau. "Introduce Imani to Aicantar, the boy looks as if he may faint if you don't do it soon, and then take her back to my quarters. See that the servants bring you refreshments and make yourselves comfortable. I will be along presently. There are some things I need before we begin."

"As you say, Commander."

Ondolemar dipped his head just low enough for Beau to stretch up on her toes and meet him. He kissed her deeply, but even as his lips claimed hers and her eyes fluttered closed, his own remained open with a burning focus on Imani's submissive face.  
She pulled back from him with a sigh and he couldn't suppress the genuine shadow of a smile that quirked at the corners of his lips. Without another word, she grabbed Imani's hand and with a half skip dragged her over towards the nervously awaiting Aicantar. Ondolemar held back a few steps before trailing behind them with a far more dignified step. This was going to be amusing.

As he watched, his arms crossed and his face relaxed in a bored expression, he took note of the subtle differences between the three; Ysabeau with her bubbly flirting, the light touches she made on Aicantar's arm, the way she smiled brightly at his words and subtly stepped into his personal space. Aicantar, the bumbling fool. The boy had talent when it came to potions, Ondolemar would give him that, but even the most basic of female interaction seemed to be beyond him. The Mer stammered over his words, blushed at the first moment of eye contact and his body remained stiff and rigid in what could only be likened to silent terror. And then there was Imani. She was an enigma. Her submissive nature called to him and stroked his primal urge to possess and dominate. The lovely way she averted her eyes and answered each address with reverence, even with the lesser Mer, was enough to have the blood rushing to his cock. In his mind Ondolemar congratulated himself on his plan, this was going to be magnificent indeed.

It wasn't until after the Bretons had left, leaving Aicantar staring after them wistfully, that he approached. "You can stop blushing now, they've gone."

Aicantar's only answer was to blush more and stammer out a half mumbled apology. The Commander really was going to have his work cut out for him. "Follow me." 

Before Aicantar could answer he strode off in the opposite direction, leaving Aicantar to rush to catch up and follow in his wake. Confusion had him wanting to question the Thalmor but nerves made his tongue thick and useless. It was only when they were opening the door to the dungeons and breezing passed disinterested guards did Aicantar summon the courage to question their destination.

"Co-commander, why are we in the du-dungeons?" He shivered at the sense of foreboding that wept from every crevice in the stonework. The stale air was heavy in his lungs, full of dust and the thick metallic scent of old blood. He coughed and tried to cover his mouth with the sleeve of his robes but the thin fabric did little to block out the oppressive odours. 

The Commander ignored all of this as if the foulness was beneath his notice. Aicantar tried not to think of how much time you would have to spend down here in the foreboding darkness, amidst the pleas of the imprisoned and the rank stench of death, to become so immune to it. 

"I need to some supplies before we start." He snapped. "If we are doing this, we are doing it properly."

"Start wh- oh gods." 

Aicantar's stomach lurched and he could feel the acidic bite of bile rise in his throat. The small room they had stepped into was lined wall to wall with barbaric torture devices. A combination of metal and wood, some stained dark with blood. In the centre stood a table with an array of sharp instruments spread out on display.

"Tor-torture equipment?!" Fear gripped Aicantar's heart for the humans who had been so nice to him. Did either of the Bretons worship Talos? Was this because of his interest in them? Didn't the Commander tell him to speak to them, encourage him? Was this for him, was it a trap all along and the Commander was going to kill him, or flay him alive for his own enjoyment? 

His world seemed to dim and tilt all at once, all other sounds around him muted except for the rush of the blood coursing through his ears. He threw a terrified look over at Ondolemar who was ignoring him and idly opening and rifling through cupboards and drawers, examining the contents and removing some items to place them into a crate he had on the table.

Aicantar's heart felt like it would hammer out of his chest at any moment and he assessed his chances of being able to run. If he bolted now he may make it to one of the guards before the Thalmor caught him. Even if it wasn't him that was set to be tortured, he could warn Imani and Ysabeau and tell the Jarl and have the Commander locked away and…

Ondolemar's voice broke through the silence and his fear, breaking off his rambling plans and snapping him back into the intensity of the reality he currently found himself in. 

"The Thalmor find some people break better under less conventional methods." He explained, dropping a handful of thick chains into the crate. "I have my own personal collection of course, but this situation calls for more."

Aicantar was taken aback by the even, almost cordial, tone the Commander used towards him. Surely if he was going to kill him he wouldn't explain his methods? Even so, that still left the Bretons in danger and Aicantar summoned the miniscule scraps of courage he never knew he had buried inside.

"I-I'm so-sorry Commander, I know this isn't my place...but please, you mustn't torture the Bretons. They are innocent."

"The Dragonborn is anything but innocent, I assure you. If you are going to defend anyone's honour stick to Imani, she is a safer bet."

"But Sir, surely tor-torture is unnecessary, wha-what is their crime?"

At this Ondolemar stopped and pinned Aicantar with a sharp expression. "What are you going on about?"

"I-I will not stand by while you torture them, they ha-have done no wrong. If it is anything that I have done, or my interest in - or if I have overstepped, punish me instead. The ladies have done nothing to you."

Ondolemar released an exasperated sigh. "Boy, what do you think we are doing in the dungeons?"

"You-you wanted torture equipment for the Bre-Bretons." Aicantar said accusingly, surprisingly himself at the hard tone his voice had taken on. 

"I should have your Uncle thrashed, he is doing an abysmal job of teaching you about the world. Do you have any idea what awaits you in my quarters at this very moment?"

Aicantar blinked at him in confusion. "Sir?"

"Your naivety would be amusing if it weren't so insulting. I am going to teach you to be a true Altmer, show you what is like to seize the superiority granted to you by birth. The Bretons have volunteered to aid me in that task."

Realisation hit Aicantar like a torrent of cold water. "The - the Bretons...volunteered...to...to..."

"Very generous of them, wouldn't you say? They did seem quite taken with the idea."

"but...Ms.Char-erm, Ysabeau is...well she is b-but isn't she yours and...and Imani...I feel like she is and isn't yours as well, Commander."

"Shut up, grab that box, and say thank you." Ondolemar stalked out of the room, snatching up an innocuous metal rod from the table on his way out. 

By the time Aicantar had exited the dungeons and processed what the Commander had told him his entire body was flushed with embarrassment and arousal. The very idea, the thought that two of the most beautiful women he had ever seen were waiting...for him! He still wasn't sure what the Commander wanted with the things he had acquired from the dungeons, but maybe they had nothing to do with him and the Bretons after all? 

Before scooping up the crate Aicantar's curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had quickly peered inside before running after the Thalmor's longer steps. Everything looked like a torture device and not something that he would want to be near. The crate was full of chains, leather, whips, strange clamps, some gags and peculiarly shaped objects that were riddled with patterns that dipped and rose along the various metals they were carved out of. 

Aicantar’s only conclusion was that besides being cruel, the Thalmor were very, very strange.


	3. Atmosphere

The walk through the keep and up the stairs had felt like a thousand groggy miles that passed by in mere seconds. Imani’s heart felt as if it would explode in her chest as her anxiety grew with every half dragged step she took. Vaguely she could make out some of what Beau was excitedly chattering about though it was muted as if she were submerged in a rushing river. 

“You’re going to love this so much, Imani.” Ysabeau clutched her arm tighter in hers and gave her hand a gentle stroke as they reached the top of the stairs and made for the private quarters of the Thalmor. “I promise you don’t have to be afraid.” 

It was easy for her to say. Too easy. 

Imani was far from a blushing virgin, but she also knew when something was incredibly risky. Often she found herself concerned for her beloved friend Ysabeau and how much her fellow Breton seemed to admire the Justiciar Commander. Imani knew Beau was no fool, but she also knew she was playing a very very dangerous game and worried if she realized it fully. 

Ondolemar was attractive, undeniably so. His features sharp and chiseled, his voice a soothing melody that hid beneath a double-edged sword coated in poison. His eyes a vibrant brilliance of emerald that so easy turned all beneath that gaze into nothing more than prey waiting to be torn apart. Imani would always find herself taken aback by the height the Altmer possessed, but Ondolemar seemed to dwarf even his people with the untouchable elegance and undeniable authority he exuded. He was indeed a near flawless representation of the Aldmeri race. 

And that was what made him so dangerous. 

Ondolemar, Justiciar Commander, had earned that title and Imani trembled to think of how many had screamed for mercy at his hand before meeting their end at the edge of his sword or the devastating surge of his magick. Beau saw a powerful lover that looked after her. Imani saw a prowling monster hiding beneath a breathtakingly handsome veneer.

“Hello again, Areon! How are you?” 

Imani stumbled to a stop at Ysabeau's side, and Beau’s cheerful greeting rang loud in her now silent mind. She detected the sound of metal creaking, and before she could rationalize the source and where she was, the Breton found her head snapping up and further tilting back to meet the amber gaze of one of Ondolemar’s guards. The younger mer remained silent as he completely ignored Ysabeau, who Imani was certain he was more than used to by now, and instead scrutinized her from beneath the golden pitch of his helmet.

“Commander Ondolemar sent us,” Beau gave Imani’s arm a little tug and the soldier a charming smile. “And we are to wait in his quarters until his arrival.” 

Imani caught the exasperated sigh of another unseen person and the creases shadowing ridges along the regal nose of the Thalmor soldier before them in irritation as well as the tightening of his lips. Over his superior’s taste for 'lower lifeforms,' his aloofness towards her as a newcomer, or his own jealousy she’d never know. 

“Very well.” He murmured, standing aside but not taking his eyes away from her. “Do go right in.” 

“Thank you!” Beau smiled prettily at him and gave the other guard who had been tucked away in the shadow a quick but kind acknowledgment as she pressed the door open and ushered Imani in. Imani paused in the warmth of the room, surprised by its caress, and lifted her eyes to take in her surroundings. 

Only a person of high class, finer tastes, and a hefty coin purse could attain luxury such as this in such a city created of ancient gears and unforgiving stone. Though the base layer of the Commanders living quarters was the bland rock that made up Markarth the amenities were a very distant and overwhelming cry from the Reach and most of Skyrim. 

A large and neatly kept cave bear rug expanded across the floor. The scent of flora and spice from brandy seemed amplified by the low light of the candles burning at the modest but well-crafted desk in the corner. The Dwarven chandelier gave a comfortable and slightly blue-tinted light, and the shadows from the crisp craftsmanship of the gleaming bronze cast a beautiful if not ominous tangle across the floor and up the walls. 

Imani took in the bookshelf against the opposite wall and appreciated how they were all stacked so neatly and in size order and had no idea how lost she was in the seeming serenity of the room until her eyes alighted on the back wall. Her mouth went dry, and her heart tumbled down into her stomach. There, anchored upon the wall, hidden partially by one of the shadows cast by the hollow shell of the candelabrum, rested a set of rusted, wicked looking iron shackles. 

She flinched when Ysabeau's hands touched her forearms from behind, pale fingers curling around them, purposefully gliding up to her shoulders. She squeezed Imani's tense muscles and pressed into her space, resting against her back. The warmth of her friend and her soothing touch worked with the otherwise humble, yet refined aesthetic of the room but only slightly. 

"Isn't it lovely, this room?" Beau whispered in Imani's ear. Shivering as her hair was swept away from her neck, Imani licked her dry lips as her eyes alighted on the massive stone slab that played the part of the Commander's bed. Her eyes drooped a bit as Beau's delicate fingers combed through her long waves and massaged her scalp as she took in the luxurious pelts and imported silks and linens neatly made and draped there. 

Ysabeau's own eyes fixated on Ondolemar's bed and went glassy as the vivid memories of being entangled in those furs and sheets beneath the powerful body of the Altmer seemed to play out before them. Her lips curled as she exhaled slowly, a breathy sound of delight ghosting against Imani's neck, causing her to tremble and her chest to rise with a sharp inhale. 

"They are as soft as they look." Beau's fingertips danced a trail along the neckline of Imani's simple dress, and her smile grew as she lowered her gaze to follow them, tracing until the cotton lifted from Imani's body to pull against the weight of her breasts. "And you and Aicantar are going to look so-" Imani gasped gently as Ysabeau's hands flattened and trailed a bit further down to caress them with appreciation while her lips hovered against her ear, her voice a hot whisper of lust and passion as her eyes slid back over to look at the bed Imani hadn't taken her eyes off of. "Incredible, Imani. You are going to love this." 

Again, Ysabeau assured her and Imani could only stand paralyzed beneath the hands that had followed the swell of her breasts downward. Over the fabric covering her taut stomach, Beau's hands diverged at her hips dipping down low enough to skirt her fingers up over the swell of her ass. With an affectionate kiss to Imani's cheek, Ysabeau stepped back and walked her fingers up Imani's spine and stopped at the laces of her dress. 

The reality of the situation once again attacked Imani's mind, and she stammered as she crossed her arms to anchor the fabric against her as Beau worked quickly and all too soon had it loosened. 

"B-Beau!"

Anything else she may have longed to stammer in opposition dissipated as Ysabeau giggled and pressed her lips against Imani's back and laid gentle kisses upward as her hands insistently worked to slide the dress free from around Imani's shoulders and down her clenching arms. Imani's mouth hung open in shock and goosebumps rose up across her body with every touch of her friend's soft lips against her spine. 

"Come on, Imani. You are so beautiful, and they know that. Didn’t you see how they looked at you? Besides, if you don't let me take this off of you, I assure you that Commander is very well versed with a dagger and you'll leave without a dress." 

Though Beau's voice was cheerful and the words giggled, Imani knew with dread that what she spoke so offhandedly was a matter of fact truth. 

She remembered in vivid and marvelous detail Beau's account of the first time she'd found herself at the mercy of Ondolemar. Even now Imani's eyes were held captive by the decorative hook that the Thalmor had no doubt had installed preceding his station in the insipid stone city if only to add some flare to his forced relocation. Imani, as Ysabeau had done that night, trembled to think of how many women had been restrained by that ominous grapnel...

and she'd be one of them as the dark, unspoken promise burning in Ondolemar's eyes moments prior affirmed.

Her throat ached as she swallowed thickly and finally freed her attention from the final destination before her and turned her head to look into the indigo depths of Ysabeau's encouraging gaze. The blonde gave her a nod and a sweet smile, and with a final nervous glance back at that bed, Imani surrendered and relaxed her arms to her sides.

"It'll be alright." 

Imani didn't flinch as Ysabeau's words were mumbled against her shoulder and her hands eased the fabric down her arms. Though it was the two of them alone in the room, Imani could feel the Thalmor Commander in every detail in a way she hadn't before. The air seemed to shift with every inch of skin that Beau exposed. Shadows felt like a cloak of unseen eyes appraising her as she stood helplessly just inside the entryway. 

The warm fabric pooled at her feet and from behind her Beau gave a hum of appreciation as a blush raced across Imani’s face. She met Ysabeau’s excitable and appraising gaze as she moved to stand before Imani and shifted nervously on her feet. 

“You...gods, Imani. You are so stunning.” Ysabeau breathed, taking in the naked body of her friend. “They are going to love you.” 

“They?” Imani whispered and though she longed to be fearful of the prospect of what Beau implied she found her resolve weakened as her hands were scooped up in the Dragonborn’s and she was coaxed toward the bed. 

“Yes, they.” Ysabeau chuckled airly. “I know you saw how the Commander looked at you. This might be for Aicantar, but there’s no doubt Ondolemar will treat you to elven supremacy.” 

Imani’s traitorous body pulsed hot and a sweet ache blossomed within her sex. 

“Now, lay down and relax! Make yourself at home! There’s something I need to do before they come.” 

The cool but inviting touch of the furs and fabrics against her hot skin had Imani sighing in appreciation as she eased herself onto the slab. The musky, masculine scent of Ondolemar rose up and encompassed her, assuaging her even as her mind whispered danger. 

“Say, Imani? Why are you so hard on yourself?” 

The Breton blinked and managed to dispel the cast illusion of protection that muddled her mind and glanced over at Ysabeau who had already shed her dress and was rifling through the bottom drawer of Ondolemar’s desk. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Beau paused with a victorious ‘ah hah!’ and rose back up, holding beautiful black silks adorned with chiming decorative chain forged of pure gold. “I mean why don’t you see yourself for what you are?”

Imani snorted. 

“Nobody?”

“Come now, Imani! Look at you!” 

“Beau, I...I’m aware of my appearance and...I understand to everyone else that I’m nice to look at-”

“Nice? You are gorgeous!” Ysabeau declared as Imani continued. 

“But I don’t see what others see, Ysabeau. Alright? I just don’t. And when I do, when I start to...I don’t know, appreciate my appearance, my body…”

Imani hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. 

“Please don’t say what I think you’re going to.” She sighed as Ysabeau paced quickly back to the bed and sat upon it, abandoning the material and reached out and began rubbing Imani’s back. “You appreciating who you are and what you’ve been blessed with? That is nothing to feel guilty about, Imani!” 

Imani remained silent as Beau dropped a kiss to her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. 

“...am I at least allowed to feel guilty of how disappointed my mother would be with me if she saw me now?” Imani smiled playfully. 

Ysabeau hugged her tighter and laughed merrily before pulling away to give her a sly grin. 

“I think by the end of today you’ll have forgotten to be concerned about such things.” Beau winked. “And you are not allowed to feel guilty for anything that happens here, do you understand me? I know it’s scary to think about it but please,” Imani allowed Beau to take her hand and smiled as she squeezed it. “I know Ondolemar is intimidating, but I cross my heart promise you that he will be gentle with you.”

Beau paused for a second as if considering her words before a sly grin split her lips. “At first anyway.” 

Imani snorted, skeptical that the Thalmor would be anything but gentle, and watched as Beau neatly set out what she now realized was the finely sewn apparel one might see upon the sweeping curves of dancers that claimed Hammerfell as their home. Imani sat quietly as Beau quickly set about to put the outfit on and raised a brow as the blonde met her eyes with a coy smile. 

"Commander loves this costume." Was Beau's explanation and Imani hummed and watched as she bent to step into the little skirt. She understood fully why people were drawn to Ysabeau. Her outgoing demeanor paired with her charm was a force to be reckoned with alone. Imani skirted her gaze along the soft curve of Ysabeau's backside, up the arc of her back until she turned to face Imani and tied up the little slips of fabric at her hip into a neat bow. 

She swallowed as she took in the hourglass shape of Ysabeau's waist, her eyes darting down to the curve of her full hips as she smoothed the fabric before following them upward to her adjust the silk of her top. Imani allowed herself a moment to appreciate the fullness of Ysabeau's ample breasts and caught the firm peaks of her rosy nipples pressing against the black, lustrous fabric. Higher still to the carnage left by the Nightingale archer when Mercer Frey betrayed her, and her life was nearly lost. 

Imani shifted on her seat and swept her eyes up and down Ysabeau once more in appreciation and envy. A body any woman would die to have and one that drove men crazy paired up with long, luscious blonde hair that framed a beautiful, youthful face and eyes as stunning as the cerulean depths of a vast ocean. 

Ysabeau Charcel was a goddess, and in comparison, Imani was nothing but a flaw regardless of what others stated. Beau caught the look on Imani's face and watched as she reached down to finger at the fuzzy cotton of one of the blankets. Smiling, the Breton flopped back down beside her dear friend and yanked her into another hug. 

"You're perfect just the way you are, Imani." She nuzzled the soft, ebony hair of Imani's head and inhaled the light scent of lavender and the potent odor of the Commander that now settled around them both in the empty room. "Someday you'll see that. Maybe today even!" 

Imani went to reply, to give a small snort of derision when a metallic scrape and soft squall of hinges sounded suddenly. She panicked, seizing the blanket she'd appreciated the softness of only seconds prior and ripped it upward to cocoon it around her like a shield. Ysabeau gave an excited sound and promptly flung herself across the bed, quickly assuming a playful and oh so tantalizing position, and before their eyes, the Commander strode in followed closely by a very nervous looking Aicantar. 

Ondolemar paused at the sight that greeted him, a seductive grin curling his lips as his eyes burned from beneath the pitch of his hood. The excitement and the anxiety radiating from his bed was palpable, and from behind him, he heard Aicantar gasp as he finally looked upon what awaited him. The mage's throat went dry, and he fumbled with the crate he carried, a blush burning his face hotter than any event thus far had. 

"Close the door, boy," Ondolemar ordered lowly. "And put that crate on the desk." 

Ondolemar took in the sight of Ysabeau, all wild hair, sultry eyes, and curves that drove him crazy. His gaze lingered there a second longer, a rough purr tumbling through his throat before he affixed his eyes onto Imani. Her eyes dropped away immediately, and Ondolemar felt his blood surge hotter through his body as his eyes blackened. The door was shut with an echoing clang, and the Thalmor stalked forward as he heard Aicantar deposit the crate carefully onto the top of his desk. 

"Good. Now, we begin."


	4. Temptation

All the romance novels on Nirn couldn't have prepared Aicantar for this moment. He had long lost count of the many nights he had fantasised of laying with a woman; what it would feel like, what he would do and now to have it bared before him in wonderous reality was near impossible to comprehend. 

After the initial shock of seeing the Bretons, his eyes had shot to the floor, focusing on his own feet as he used all of his concentration on doing as the Commander ordered. With that task complete and nothing to focus on he had no idea of where to lay his eyes. His apprehensive gaze was cast adrift, taking in everything around the room except what he most desired to look at. If he were to allow his eyes to give in to temptation would that stir Ondolemar's anger? Or would he find him unappreciative if he didn't? Would the ladies consider him lecherous? 

The soft rustle of shifting furs caught his attention and timidly he looked up from the floor, slowly at first until he could see the Commander's boots in the corner of his eye. When no reprimand came he lifted them still further until he could make out the blankets and furs that draped over the stone edge of the bed. He followed the path of luxurious pelts and fabrics until the texture changed to raven locks of hair, sun-kissed skin and the graceful lines of Imani's face. The blanket she had wrapped so tightly around herself enclosed her completely from her neck down, but even so, Aicantar felt his heart race faster. He silently willed her to look up at him, to notice him, but her beautiful green eyes remained lowered in demure submission. 

In vibrant contrast, Ysabeau met his gaze boldly, with such hunger that he felt forced to turn away with a shy smile. He had dreamed of her looking at him that way, sat upon his enchanting table or in his lab, his hands roving over her body and her mouth moaning his name, and now that she actually was he was back to staring at the floor like a bashful youth.  
"Bretons are delectable aren't they," Ondolemar said, smirking at his interest and sauntering towards the bed with easy confidence. "So different to our own women. Not that you would know from personal experience, of course, but even from afar you can appreciate the allure that makes them so enticing." As he continued to speak, Ondolemar traced the curve of Ysabeau's hips, his fingertips gliding over the black silk and then along the bare skin of her upper thigh. Aicantar's eyes followed their path intently until Ondolemar pulled away, offering her his hand and saying, "Come, let him admire your beauty."

Ysabeau accepted it without hesitation and shimmied off the bed straight into Ondolemar's arms. She eagerly pressed herself against him and he rewarded her with an appreciative purr against her throat before twirling her back around so that she faced Aicantar. The delicate chains on her outfit picked up the firelight at the movement, each glint of gold as dazzling as the smile she gifted him, a smile full of warmth and promise. Aicantar swallowed nervously, and shifted, trying not to show any sign of his growing arousal. 

"She really is quite exquisite, isn't she?" 

"Ye-yes, she is, Co-commander. She is very...very beautiful."

Without releasing his grip on Ysabeau's hand, Ondolemar turned to look at Imani, who still sat slightly trembling beneath her substitute armour. 

"It seems to me you have made our little Imani a bit too comfortable, Dragonborn."

"You must forgive her Commander, she is terribly shy." A sly grin lit up her face. "But perhaps, if you both would be kind enough to join us in our state of undress, she would feel bravery course through her veins?"

"A sound idea," Ondolemar agreed, nodding towards Aicantar. "Why don't you help the boy out of his clothes, hm?" He turned to Imani with a charming smile that did little to distract from the predatory gleam in his eyes. "Imani, why don't you aid me in removing these robes."

Beneath the blanket, Imani shivered and her wide, green eyes flashed from the foreboding presence of the Commander to the door. This subtle assessment of escape didn't go unnoticed and a low growl rumbled deep in the Altmer's throat, barely audible above Ysabeau's excited voice and Aicantar's nervous stuttering, but it's meaning was clear. He wasn't asking. 

With growing trepidation, Imani eased herself gingerly off of the bed and took one nervous step towards the Commander. Fear wracked her body and her skin was aflame with the intensity of his dark gaze. In a desperate attempt at distraction, she tuned into Ysabeau's conversation, the lilting voice like an anchor reminding her that she wasn't alone. Two steps. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Three steps. A deep, steadying breath filled with the intoxicating scent of the room. Four steps. Her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. Five steps. A giggle and a strangled yelp from Ysabeau and Aicantar's direction almost drew her attention towards the pair and away from the eyes that followed her every movement. Almost. Six steps. One more and she would be directly in front of him. She stopped at six, her toes right on the edge of the halo of light cast by the chandelier above them. 

That light may as well have been a ravine or a great chasm for how dangerous it was to cross. Or was it more dangerous to stay in the dancing shadows that shrouded her?  
Her own frantic voice filled her mind; I shouldn't be here. I really shouldn't be here, this is not who I am, I don't do this. Imani, you are NAKED in a room with a Thalmor and an unknown elf, what possessed you! 

A velvet whisper weaved through her logic...but isn't this what you fantasise about? Isn't this the type of situation that you lose yourself to when you touch yourself at night when you think no one is watching? Fantasies! They are fantasies and this is real, so real and so dangerous and gods he is so handsome and smells so good…

A gloved hand reached for her through the glow. "Come, Imani. Let me see you." 

He could kill me or make me wish he had killed me - or make you scream for more...this isn't who you are...but is who you are who you really want to be? This is the danger you've always wanted, Imani. You knew what they were offering, and still, you came. Like a moth to the flame...will you bask or will your burn?

With a trembling hand, Imani dropped the blanket and let the Thalmor pull her into the light.

Ondolemar smirked and brought his free hand up to cup her face, gently tracing the fullness of her lips with his thumb. The rich scent of leather, enhanced by his body heat was a strong accent to the overwhelming scent of him.

"How can a creature as beautiful as you, be so shy?"

Her answering voice was a timid whisper that caressed Ondolemar's cock as easily as her own hand. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"There is no need to be sorry. On the contrary, it pleases me to see that you know your place so well. Tell me, Imani, have you ever been taken by an Altmer?"

"No, Sir."

"Surely you aren't a virgin too?"

Imani blushed crimson under his direct questioning. "N-no, Sir....it's just...I have only been with an Imperial. Sir."  
"An Imperial," Ondolemar scoffed, the word coming out of his mouth as if the feel of it was offensive to his tongue. "Believe me when I tell you, that what limited pleasure that Imperial managed to give you, will be nothing on what you will experience today."

He began to stalk around her in a tight circle, his eyes drinking in her petite form. Each step set off a slight breeze that stirred the warm air to snake around her ankles and lick at her skin.   
Through her fear, arousal flared and Imani couldn't stop the gasp of anticipation that parted her lips. Ondolemar's pleasant smile turned predatory. 

"I can sense your excitement Breton, you have no need to be so fearful. With the correct preparations, you'll see that, slight as you are, you'll be able to accommodate far more than you ever dreamed." He reached out a hand to touch her hip, snickering as she flinched at the unexpected contact. "What has the Dragonborn told you of me? I have no doubt that her flippant tongue has regaled you with stories."

"I have heard many stories of you, Sir," Imani answered quietly. Her eyes never met his but a small smile peeked through her meek demeanour. "Beau sings of your praises more than any other."

"Is that so? I will have to thank her for painting me in such a complimentary light." His gaze flicked momentarily to the blonde presently absorbed in relieving Aicantar of his clothes, then back to the Breton before him. "You know, she was very much like you the first night I took her. Scared, overwhelmed, but come morning she was screaming my title and begging me for more. You will be the same, Imani. Ruined for any other race, and craving nothing more than the dominating touch of an Altmer."

Imani swallowed nervously, the playful smile fleeing from her lips. Ondolemar's eyes levelled on her throat. "Remove my robes, Imani."

"Yes, Sir."

Hesitant hands struggled to work the supple leather. Under Ondolemar's burning gaze Imani tried to obey him, to will her body to do as it was told. Every loosened buckle and strap, every undone fastening, every lace she untied brought her closer to the inevitable. Her arousal did little to stem the fear that flowed through her. It was an intoxicating combination and one that left her lightheaded and electrified all at once. Thalmor regalia slid off of broad shoulders and her mouth went dry at her first glimpse of lean muscles and flawless golden skin.

"Good girl," Ondolemar purred. He brought his hand up to his own mouth and used his teeth to begin pulling the gloves free from his hands, first one, then the other. Imani dared to glance up from beneath her lashes, not all the way to his eyes, but just high enough to watch him bite down on the leather. The balance of fear and arousal was shifting.

"Finish the job, Breton."

Imani, captivated by his mouth, jumped at the sudden order. Her eyes anxiously darted back to the floor, and then up again to survey his level of dress. All that remained were his pants and she eyed them with trepidation. 

"Remove them, Imani."

Fingertips gently slid along the top of the waist, carefully avoiding brushing against his skin. She came to the laces and hesitated. There was already no going back, this was just a further step into the depravity she had already started upon. In the depths of her mind, she knew why she hesitated. Beau had indeed told her many stories about the Commander. How he was an amazing lover, so very generous, incredibly skilled and how incredibly well endowed his cock was. To undo his pants and see for her own eyes would make this a reality, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to face that. 

"I said remove them." The honeyed tone his words had carried previously was dropped, replaced with the firm authority of a Thalmor Justiciar who expected to be obeyed. With hands trembling anew, Imani obeyed. 

The black fabric pooled to the floor with the leather robes and the Breton had to force herself to stand still and not step back. Ysabeau hadn't exaggerated. Watching her reaction with amusement, Ondolemar smoothly kicked off his boots. "Remember what I said," he reassured her. "You will surprise yourself by what your body is capable of."

Imani could only nod mutely, her eyes torn between wanting to gaze upon the naked Mer before her and the temptation to start reassessing that escape route.

Ondolemar stroked a hand through her hair tenderly, running the silken tresses through his fingers. "You have nothing to fear, Imani. All of this," he gestured around the room with his free hand. "is about pleasure. You and I being here, the boy, the Dragonborn, it is what we all seek."

"The addictive thrill of living out a fantasy," Beau added softly from the bed behind them. Beneath her, Aicantar made a noise akin to a whimpering moan. "What was that?" She asked, her lips teasing the sensitive skin of his throat.

"Thi-this is be-better than any...any fantasy."

"Darling, you have no idea. We have only just begun." She nipped at him and shifted her position from straddling his lap to kneeling behind him. Her hands swept over the planes of his back, stroking upwards to his shoulders, down his chest, over his throat and coming up to massage the pinnacle of his ears. He pressed himself into every touch, all the while watching the Thalmor and Imani.  
"She is so beautiful isn't she?" Beau whispered hotly against his ear. "The curves of her body, her gorgeous face, so incredibly sweet. She is perfection." 

That was when Imani made her first mistake. She turned away from the Commander to refute Beau's claims and in an instant the hand that had been so gentle fisted painfully in her hair, suddenly stopping her movement and holding her still. 

Her second mistake was the reflexive response to the manhandling. Her small hands flew to his wrist before she could think about her actions and as soon as her fingers met his skin, her head was yanked back, forcing her to meet the emerald storm of his eyes. "Do not touch me again unless I allow it," He growled. 

Aicantar watched in horror, feeling frozen as if it was happening in slow motion. Anger flared inside him, and shame. Shame at the way his cock had jumped the moment Ondolemar's touch turned rough. He turned to Beau, panic clear on his face. "Shouldn't we help her?"

"Sssh," Beau hushed him, kissing his cheek. "Just watch."

And he did, he couldn't not, he was captivated. His eyes took in the tension of Imani's body, the way her back arched against the harsh grip, how her breasts were pushed out and the breathy moans that escaped her lips. He jumped at the first touch of Beau's hand on his cock and made a feeble attempt to push her away. He didn't want her to know how much he was enjoying this, how much he ached at the scene playing out before them. But she merely hushed him again, ran her tongue along his neck and idly gripped him, stroking him gently in time with Imani's heaving chest. 

When Ondolemar ground out his next orders of "Get on your knees", a pearl of precum was already highlighting the tip of Aicantar's cock. 

Half forced and half obliging, Imani's knees hit the stone floor. She tried to look away, to avert her gaze, but Ondolemar kept her head pulled back, not relinquishing his hold in her hair. 

"It's time you got accustomed to what you will be dealing with, little Breton." He sneered. 

Aicantar had marvelled at the size difference between the Bretons and the Altmer earlier as he watched Beau looking adoringly at the Commander, then again when Imani was standing before him, but that all paled in comparison to how small she looked kneeling before his imposing figure. A strangled gasp caught in Aicantar's throat as Imani obediently opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the head of the golden shaft. The Commander stood still, allowing her to adjust at her own pace. His grip in her hair loosened slightly and the vice like fingers softened their hold, allowing the Breton to move and shift however needed to accommodate him in her mouth. 

A muffled moan came from Imani and Aicantar felt himself stop breathing. Beau chuckled softly into his shoulder. 

"Isn't she stunning, Aicantar. Her lips are so soft, and her mouth would be so hot around his cock. Did you hear her moan? She is loving this, I told you there was no need to worry." 

Aicantar could only gape in response. Beau smiled indulgently and played a trail of kisses along his jaw. "Isn't it wonderful? How does it feel?" 

"How...h-how does what feel?" 

"Knowing that the beautiful woman you are watching right now is going to be your first."

Another moan filled the air before Aicantar could answer, this one the deep, husky hum of Ondolemar. Beau shivered at his expression of appreciation and as if sensing the spike in her arousal he glanced up from watching Imani to lock eyes with her. She whimpered in response and his eyes dropped to where she continued to stroke Aicantar, his cock hard and pulsing under her touch.

Ondolemar quirked a brow at him and asked, "Are you enjoying the show, boy?"

Embarrassment flushed Aicantar's skin rose gold. "I - I...umm."

"Of course he is, Commander," Beau answered for him smoothly. "It would be impossible for anyone not to. Imani looks glorious with her mouth around you."

"She is..." a groan broke from Ondolemar's lips, interrupting his sentence. "Exceptionally talented." He rewarded Imani with a small smile and turned back to Aicantar. "From the way you stare it is obvious you have never had a woman's lips around your cock...have you at least felt them on your own?"

"N-no, Sir. I - I haven't."

Ondolemar sighed with annoyance and thrust into Imani's mouth. "Dragonborn, kiss him so he can get the basics out of the way. Might as well cover all of his firsts while he is here."

"It would be my pleasure," Beau purred. She abandoned Aicantar's cock, freeing her hands so she could cup both sides of his face. She smiled at his shy expression. "Aicantar sweetheart, you have just had my hands all over you, why ever are you bashful for a kiss?"

Aicantar looked away, careful to avoid Ondolemar's direction, and restlessly toyed with a loose thread on one of the blankets. "Miss Cha...Ysabeau...I - I...have had dreams...that I had - that you had -"

Ysabeau cut him off by pressing her lips to his own. Softly and sweetly she kissed him, parting her lips to dart her tongue playfully at his unmoving mouth. "Just relax, Aicantar," she cooed against him. She kept kissing him as she moved to his front and straddled his waist again, looping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against his bare chest. 

Timidly Aicantar's hands came up to rest on her hips, his mouth relaxed slightly and at the first touch of her tongue on his, he moaned against her. That was all the encouragement Beau needed to deepen the kiss. Letting go of her restraint, the gentleness turned to passion, the hands that had remained passive at the nape of his neck came up to tangle in his hair and she ground herself against him, the weight of his cock heavy between her thighs.

"Aicantar..." She breathed. She bit down on his lip and his grasp on her hips tightened, a low purr building in his throat. 

"Dragonborn." Ondolemar's voice, as sharp as a newly whetted blade interrupted. "I told you to kiss him, not fuck him into Oblivion."

Reluctantly Beau pulled away, her lips plump and flushed as she smiled sheepishly over her shoulder at him. "I'm sorry, Commander. I got carried away." She kissed the top of Aicantar's head affectionately as his forehead collapsed onto her chest, his panting breath hot and fast across her breasts.

"You will get your chance when the time comes." Ondolemar ground out roughly. Imani had chosen that moment to experimentally tease her teeth along his shaft, followed by a swirl of her tongue on the underside that had Ondolemar's restraint staggering on the edge of his control. A steady stream of curses flowed under his ragged breath as his thrusts became more erratic, pushing into her eager mouth harder and deeper each time. Imani moaned around him, the vibrations coursing through his cock in a delicious hum. "Such a hot little mouth, Breton." He groaned, bending his head to watch his cock disappear between her lips again and again.

So caught up was she in the scent of the mer she was pleasuring, in the sounds rumbling in his chest and the arousal that burned at her core, that Imani forgot herself and made her third mistake. Lust fogged her common sense and before she had realised what she had done her nails were grazing over the smooth muscles of the Commander's abdomen. Ondolemar stilled and the air grew heavy and thick with electricity and tension. Realising what she had done Imani's wild eyes flew to his and she gasped around his cock, trying to pull away from him but his grip in her hair held her firm. Ondolemar bucked twice more into her mouth and his lips lifted into a dangerous smirk.

"Dragonborn."

"Yes, Commander?"

"In that crate, you will find a set of leather cuffs. Be a good girl and get them for me."


	5. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At his voice, Imani tensed minutely, and Ysabeau ran her thumbs over the flesh of Imani's forearm. She turned her attention back to Ysabeau and locked her eyes with hers. Imani's eyes shown the semblance of a sunny forest, vibrant, breathtaking, and had Beau not known Imani, she'd think the Breton calm and collected. But Ysabeau saw the anxiety that narrowed her pupils and the surge of rebellion that widened them back in retaliation. 
> 
> _So close._
> 
> "Are you ready?"
> 
> Imani's eyes widened, and a delicate flush rose to her cheeks as she snuck a glance back at Aicantar, then again to the cuffs still held in the patient hands of the Commander, before they rose back up to meet Ysabeau's hopeful gaze. She remained silent, but her silence spoke to the Dragonborn. 
> 
> _Yes, I am._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter I have ever written, and I'm sorry it took so long.

Upon the mention of restraint, two things went flying through Imani's head. The first was the overwhelming, dizzying punch of anxiety. To be at the absolute mercy of an elf that didn't freely give such a thing raked cold claws of dread down her spine. 

The second was carnal desire. 

"Give her your wrists, Imani."

Unease kept her words trapped in her throat and stung at her eyes with the threat of tears. Ysabeau smiled in reassurance, and stepped closer, anchoring Imani and shushing her gently. The Dragonborn reached out and smoothed her hands over Imani's tense shoulders and down her arms, giggling at the rise of goose-flesh in the wake of her caress. 

"It'll be okay, Imani." 

As her words were spoken, Imani flinched as if her voice had caught her unaware. Ysabeau watched as realization flashed through the vibrant eyes of her friend before Imani nervously glanced down to the matte shine of leather held in Ondolemar's golden fingers. Both Ysabeau and Ondolemar stood in silence as Imani assessed her situation. She shifted on her feet and kept her eyes downcast as she turned her head towards the stone slab. 

Ysabeau knew at that moment what Imani was starting at in the shadow. Past Aicantar's quiet observation, Imani's gaze hung on the hook at the head of the bed. She swallowed thickly as the weight of the situation only seemed to grow heavier, the anticipation and lust in the air thicker with every silent drag of air. Her hesitation was expected, and though he ached and burned with agitation and desire, Ondolemar allowed it, and Ysabeau quietly turned her head to examine the menacing curl of metal.

She also knew how Imani felt at that moment. At another precipice she stood, afraid and tense. Ysabeau had experienced the surge of adrenaline and the prickling discomfort of anxiety even despite her arousal that night that seemed so long ago. Though it didn't appear so, Imani had complete control of the moment, and part of Beau knew that the raven-haired Breton knew that. Within her mind, Imani's logic and instilled morals had staggered back to their feet and Beau knew the battle hung on the plane of a thread. 

Curling her hands around Imani's wrists, Beau applied the smallest bit of pressure and whispered her name. Imani frowned but didn't outwardly react otherwise to Ysabeau's quiet acknowledgment. Against her palms, the Dragonborn detected the intense pulse of Imani's heart and a darker ancient portion of her soul savored the jittery unease of the Breton she held. Aicantar shifting on the bed had Imani's attention flitting from the hook and her observation of the bed to the uneasy looking mer that sat upon it. 

Aicantar's gaze hung at the Breton's naked chest before he lifted it further to see that she was looking back at him keenly. A blush dusted over the planes of his angular face, but the mer remained silent as he met her gaze. Ysabeau felt her heart flutter in her chest as the mage beckoned Imani with quiet reassurance, the smallest of smiles finding sanctuary on his lips. 

It would forever impress Ysabeau just how perceptive Ondolemar was. Lulled by Aicantar's silent, sincere plea and swept up by the promise in his eyes, Imani had only started to relax her stance when the Commander smirked, tilted his head down, and praised her with a raspy, "good girl." 

At his voice, Imani tensed minutely, and Ysabeau ran her thumbs over the flesh of Imani's forearm. She turned her attention back to Ysabeau and locked her eyes with hers. Imani's eyes shown the semblance of a sunny forest, vibrant, breathtaking, and had Beau not known Imani, she'd think the Breton calm and collected. But Ysabeau saw the anxiety that narrowed her pupils and the surge of rebellion that widened them back in retaliation. 

_So close._

"Are you ready?"

Imani's eyes widened, and a delicate flush rose to her cheeks as she snuck a glance back at Aicantar, then again to the cuffs still held in the patient hands of the Commander, before they rose back up to meet Ysabeau's hopeful gaze. She remained silent, but her silence spoke to the Dragonborn. 

_Yes, I am._

With a breathed "alright,” Beau smiled and tightened her grip on Imani's wrists and met no resistance. 

"Very good,” Ondolemar husked deeply, watching Ysabeau lift the Breton's arms to hold them before her. 

Sliding her hands forward to lace her fingers with Imani's, Ysabeau watched with hooded eyes as Ondolemar wrapped the softened leather around Imani's wrists and secured them. Imani sighed as Ondolemar's fingers traced up her arm, caressing the delicate expanse of her neck. His golden fingers cupped beneath her chin and the Breton whimpered as the elf bent and pressed his lips against hers in a deep kiss. 

"Aicantar," Ondolemar pulled away just so, his lips still making contact with Imani's as he spoke. "You've never tasted the essence of a woman." 

A statement, a sound observation, and Ysabeau smiled at the stammering mage as he tried to reply. "E-Essence?"

"Auri-el preserve me," Ondolemar growled, his eyes flashing up to pin Aicantar with an irritable glare. "Are you without the faculty to picture the scenes that you eagerly read?" 

The mage was silent, and his gaze lingered on the ground at Imani's feet. 

"My imagination is just fine," Aicantar whispered. 

"Then allow me to put it the most basic of terms since you're not on the level of comprehension you should be." 

Imani gasped as she was broken from Ysabeau's hands and spun to face Aicantar. Ondolemar's foot was between her ankles and before Imani could gain her bearings he had her legs kicked apart and her body pulled back against him. The pulse of his cock against the small of her back ushered a surprised squeak from her lips and from his spot just outside the veil of light, Aicantar's eyes widened, and a choked gasp of shock came from his parted lips as he finally took in the beautiful Breton before him.

Different than Ysabeau but no less appealing, Imani was breathtaking. Ysabeau claimed the supple curves and cinched waist of an hourglass, a body most women coveted and couldn't possess themselves. This Aicantar knew.

Imani’s form was toned, her taunt muscle tense beneath the glow of bronzed skin. Her breasts, while far smaller than Ysabeau’s, were no less appealing as they heaved upon her chest with each anticipatory breath she drew. Her waist tapered into a sharp curve above the tempting widening of her hips. 

Aicantar watched, stupefied, as Ondolemar’s large hand slipped down the curve of Imani’s waist to quickly dive between her opened legs. The Breton’s shocked whine and the little fight she gave the Commander had Aicantar sitting straighter and his eyes unknowingly darkening. Her struggle was brief, and soon she stood complacently against Ondolemar as he worked his fingers along her slit. 

“Come here,” he growled, not bothering to look to Aicantar. 

The mage glanced at Ysabeau as she smiled and outstretched her hand. Taking it, he returned his gaze to the whimpering Breton in Ondolemar’s arms. The Commander had bent himself over her and had buried his face against the crook of her neck, biting her tender flesh only to soothe the ache with licks and kisses. Imani’s eyes fluttered, her brow knit as she worked to press back against the cradle of his body and chase the touch of his fingertips at the same time. 

The Commander was leading the first wave of battle, Aicantar stopped before them and watched the sinful dance of temptation play out. The books never mentioned the beauty, and they never touched upon the true perfections of the sounds orchestrated in the delightful plea of desire. At his side, Beau watched with hooded eyes as Ondolemar suddenly shoved his hips against Imani to stand them both straight again, grinding against the Breton with a growl. 

Her friend gave a whine when Ondolemar pulled his hand from between her thighs, and Aicantar's eyes widened at the wetness shimmering on the long, elegant digits as Ondolemar looked at Aicantar and growled, "Understand?" 

Aicantar balked when Ondolemar continued. "Get on your knees, mage. Taste her-" 

Aicantar would blame nerves, for they had played a substantial role during the entirety of the situation thus far. From the moment Ondolemar had approached him in the cavern, through the prisons, and into the Commander's quarters, Aicantar's nervousness had been steadily growing. 

"No!" he heard himself exclaim, cutting Ondolemar off. "I-I couldn't...w-what of the taste and-" 

The energy in the room went still, deathly so at his outburst, and as he struggled to comprehend what he'd said, Ondolemar's eyes darkened threateningly. 

"Oh, darling," Beau sighed beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back, but he hardly felt it. Shock contorted Aicantar's features "I-I'm-" he stammered. "I-I wasn't thinking!" 

"Finish what you were going to say," Ondolemar demanded in a low voice that was saturated with danger. 

Aicantar looked back at him and visibly shrank back at the acidic glare he found himself trapped beneath. "And once you do, you can do one of two things; you can leave and crawl back to whatever smut you hide away in your room," Aicantar's face burned as Ondolemar continued. "Or you will apologize to the Breton, and you will make it up to her." 

Aicantar looked down to Imani and felt his heart lurch in his chest. Gone was the beauty of desire that the Commander had painted over her features. In one fell swoop, he had ripped apart what Ondolemar had built up. The light of need and confidence was snuffed from the Breton as she looked away, ashamed and hurt, out of place now in Ondolemar's arms. 

"Imani," he breathed, his eyes frantic. 

"What were you going to say, glan'nt?" Ondolemar pressed. "Speak!" 

Aicantar flinched back at the insult, his gaze flickering up to Ondolemar. The glare on the mer's features blackened into a malicious sneer as Aicantar swallowed and shook his head in shame, unable and unwilling to answer. 

"You were going to yammer of her taste and scent, weren't you?" At Aicantar's silence, Ondolemar's nostrils flared. With a sharp and sudden point to the door behind him, he snarled. "Get out." 

"Commander," Ysabeau interjected quickly, placing herself between the elves. "Please, allow him a chance to redeem himself. This is all so new and overwhelming to the poor mer." 

"It does not excuse his waggling tongue," Ondolemar bit, turning his hardened eyes down to the Dragonborn. 

"Truly, it does not, Commander, but I'm sure once he is more...confident," Beau gave a sultry smile, "he will put that waggling tongue to better uses." 

Aicantar chanced a look at Ondolemar who looked back at him with disgust and replied, "Speak sense into him, Dragonborn. I will not suffer such stupidity again." 

Aicantar stumbled out of his way as Ondolemar walked Imani towards his bed. Watching him half coax the Breton onto it while impatiently maneuvering, the mage flinched when Beau's hand found his. Squeezing it, Aicantar looked down to the Dragonborn.

"I'm a twit," he murmured, ducking his head away. 

"You are no such thing," she argued, reaching up to cup his cheek. Aicantar, darling, this is all new to you, and it's natural for nerves to become bothersome." 

"How could I even stay now that I've...I-I've insulted her so?" Aicantar looked back at Beau. 

"Start here," Ondolemar's voice cut through the bog of self-pity Aicantar had immersed himself in. The Altmer raised his gaze and gasped. 

"Oh, Imani," Beau simpered. "Aren't you just stunning?"

Imani glanced up to Ondolemar warily, testing the hold of the straps and the hook that held her arms secure, swallowing thickly as her heart fluttered in her chest. As Beau moved she pulled Aicantar along with her, his eyes fixated on the small form of the Breton laid upon the expanse of furs and imported textiles. 

Ondolemar's annoyance remained upon his features as he watched Aicantar stare, dumbstruck at the sight of Imani as she looked up at him with an aloofness sharpening her eyes. 

"So so beautiful," Beau smiled, reaching out to trace her touch across Imani's shoulder. Clearing the Breton's raven hair from hiding away her skin, the Dragonborn danced her fingers up over Imani's neck, giggling at the quickened pulse beneath them. 

Bending herself over her dear friend, Ysabeau cupped Imani's face and gently pressed her lips to hers. Imani bristled, her eyes wide as Beau pulled away only to press them back again. Timidly, Imani returned the kiss, a delicate tremble skittering down her spine at the noise that came from the Commander as he watched the scene. 

"Aicantar didn't mean it," Beau breathed against Imani's lips, her eyes hooded, dancing with lust. "Surely you can forgive his slight?" 

Imani leaned into Ysabeau's touch as her pale fingers lingered against her cheek, and whimpered when they slowly slipped downward to trace across her neck, pausing at her clavicle. 

"Look at her, Aicantar," Ysabeau breathed, smiling at the little noise Imani gave before shyly turning her head away to fixate her nervous gaze to the shadows dancing upon the opposing wall. "Isn't she stunning?" 

Aicantar knew stunning was flimsy. That no amount of praise and no right words existed to convey to them both the emotions he felt and how he viewed the Breton bound before him. Perfect, he finally concluded, his golden eyes darkening unknowingly the longer he observed the two women. 

"She's perfect," he whispered, his fingers twitching at his sides and his cock jerking before him. 

The Dragonborn's smile took on a mantle of sweet softness, her eyes sparkling in the low light at his sincerity as she looked back at him. "You truly are a sweetheart, Aicantar." 

"And you, Ms Ch-Ysabeau...you are flawless." A shy smile crept across Aicantar's lips. 

The Breton giggled and thanked him quietly as she approached him, leaving Imani to turn her aloof gaze back up to the three gathered around her bound body. Any sentiment of propriety had long since vanished with the scatter of clothing throughout the room as Ysabeau's hand reached out and curled around Aicantar's throbbing member and slid it smoothly down the shaft with the aid of the precum wetting him. 

"Y-Ysabeau."

"Shhh," she pressed in, kissing his chest. "Look at her."

"I-I am," Aicantar croaked, his eyes drooping with pleasure as he fought the urge to buck his hips against the warmth of her palm. 

"What do you wish to do to Imani, Aicantar?" 

Another loaded question. What didn't he desire to do to Imani? 

As Ysabeau continued to lay kisses on his chest, working his cock slowly, Imani acted upon curiosity and bravery. Aicantar swallowed thickly as the Breton gazed up at him beneath thick lashes and seemed to shrink. Beau gave a husky hum as the submissive little act given by Imani caused his cock to throb violently against her palm. 

For a brief moment, the mage was nearly overcome with the desire to descend upon the helpless girl and usher his name from her lips in anyway he could. His gaze lingered at the thudding pulse at her neck, knowing from the stories he so avidly read that a few gentle brushes of his lips there would bring whispered praises and breathy moans. 

Aicantar's lips parted, and his eyes hooded further as he drank in the subtle swell of her breasts, his tongue lolling against the back of his teeth. The dusky rose peaks would be sensitive, eliciting choked whimpers, her body writhing beneath his weight as he suckled them between his lips, and lashed them with this tongue. 

Down over the smooth skin of her abdomen Aicantar's eyes traveled, and though his arousal and lust burned his blood hot, he still couldn't help the rise of heat to his cheeks as they settled on the soft curls adorning her pubis. His earlier words flashed through his mind and shame knit his brows as his gaze lingered there. As if feeling the lingering sting of them, Imani's thighs tightened under his gaze, embarrassed and hurt by his stupidity. 

Frequently, the act of men savoring the taste of a woman's sex in the books he hoarded was what sent Aicantar over the edge. He kicked himself mentally. He had the opportunity to partake in the very thing that made his mouth water and took up most of his fantasies, and he had potentially ruined it. 

"You're so hard, Aicantar," Beau's voice drifted through the fog of his thoughts. "What are you thinking about, hm? What are you doing to her behind those eyes?"

The Altmer swallowed, his gaze flickering down to the Dragonborn, past her to watch her stroke his rigid shaft. "I...g-gods," his voice wavered as she used the pearl of precum crowning the head of his cock to aid her stroking.

"Do you want to kiss her?" Ysabeau purred, her eyes flashing to Imani. The Breton's eyes darkened under the intent gaze of Aicantar as he looked back up at her. 

"Yes," he hissed, bucking against Beau's hand. 

"What else, Aicantar?" Ysabeau's voice was harder as she turned her head to nip at his chest. "Tell us what you desire." 

"I want to take her." Aicantar rushed, his breaths coming jaggedly through his nose, his body burning hotter, his cock hardening further. Close, _closer…_

"We know you do, and you will." The mer hardly managed to silence the keening sound of desperation as Beau stopped working him. "But what do you wish to do to prepare her for that?" 

Aicantar hesitated, and again his eyes flashed down to the hidden apex of Imani's thighs. His heart skipped in his chest and though his mouth watered and curiosity pleaded for a taste his fear kept his voice hostage. Sensing his conflict, Ysabeau released his cock and pressed into him gently, guiding him to close the short distance between the bound Breton and himself. 

"Ysabeau?" 

"Go to her." Beau cooed, giving him a nudge. 

"W-Where?" Aicantar managed to rasp, his nerves clouding his sense.

"Sit on the bed at her thighs," the blonde smiled, encouraging him as he slowly lowered himself to sit upon the plush bedding. She slipped in behind him and rubbed at his shoulders, kissing the back of his neck. 

"How would you prepare her, Aicantar?" Ysabeau purred as she licked the tip of his ear and lifted his hand by the wrist. "What would you do?" 

A million scenarios flooded back through the elf’s mind, his rational thinking fading further and further with every nip and tease of her tongue to the sensitive skin of his ear. When he finally found his words again, they were a raspy croak, cotton like in the back of his throat. "I-I'd t-touch her, Y-Ysabeau." 

"And where would you start?" 

The flood in his mind evaporated, and Aicantar froze as his palm made contact with the warm, smooth skin of Imani's lower thigh. His eyes shot down to stare at the contrast of his large, golden hand against the sun-kissed, tense flesh of the Breton beneath it. Against the side of his face, the Dragonborn smiled, and though Imani made some low little sound of nervousness, Aicantar's heartbeat drown it out as Beau led his hand upward. 

"Would you start," Imani and Aicantar both sucked in a breath as his fingers, guided by Ysabeau, rested against the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. "Here, perhaps?" 

Aicantar’s mouth dropped open and a stammered acknowledgment to Auri-el trembled from his lips as he guided over them, the texture so different from his, soft and inviting in contrast. When Ysabeau slid his hand down further, Imani's legs tensed, denying him access to the place he longed to explore. 

“Imani, sweetheart,” Beau’s voice soothed. “Let him see you. Let him see how beautiful you are.” 

Imani gasped and blushed as Beau leaned down and kissed the top of one of her thighs, manipulating Aicantar’s index finger to tease at the peak of her slit. The elf licked his lips and anxiously shifted his eyes up to meet the nervous but hooded eyes of the bound Breton. 

“I-I’m...I’m sorry for what I said, Imani.” A blush bronzed his cheeks, and his voice was hushed with shame at his earlier panicked outburst. “You...I-”

“He was nervous,” Ondolemar growled suddenly. “And allowed his idiotic thoughts of fear and unpractised failure to escape from his wagging tongue.” 

Imani watched Aicantar flinch beneath the irritation dripping from Ondolemar’s words and pursed her lips. 

“I am sorry,” He whispered again, averting his gaze to the floor. “I’m a fool.” 

“That you are,” Ondolemar clipped as he moved to stand behind the Dragonborn and the alchemist. 

Aicantar’s shame had hooded his features, but he’d been so shocked Imani’s response a few seconds later that had his eyes widening and his heart hammering in his chest. 

Ysabeau exhaled a low, pleased sound as Imani slowly spread her legs open just enough, and looked away shyly. Aicantar stared at the sight below him, marvelling at the sheer beauty of the female body beneath his fingertips. 

“Imani,” he breathed, his eyes widening as he took in the view of damp, gentle curls framing flushed, glistening folds. “G-Gods, y-you’re-”

“Touch her, Aicantar,” Beau’s voice husked against his ear. Her hot breath against his neck sent gooseflesh to rise along his body as he watched his hand-led by the Dragonborn-descend over Imani’s sex. 

And then it was gone, and Aicantar stiffened in surprise. 

_Touch her, Aicantar._

Pulling in a breath, Aicantar's jaw clenched, and he obeyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dex here,
> 
> I apologize for the shameful delay. This chapter has been sitting glaring at me for an unacceptable amount of time now. I've been distracted by other projects and, as usual, stuck in my head about posting anything. I do hope you enjoy and thank you to Veanna and to those who have been so patient and supportive. You are all so awesome and your kindness means the world to me.


End file.
